A shot in the dark
by Delwyn
Summary: It barely took conscious thought. Break cover, shoot, drop. It was all instinct, he barely realized what he had done until it was over.  But what he couldn't seem to figure out was why his hands were stained with blood.


**Last Saturday a horrible tragedy took place in a mall less than a kilometer away from my house. Around midday, a man walked in an opened fire with an automatic weapon, killing six and then taking his own life. Two of my cousins work in the store where the man shot himself in the head. Thank heavens they are both unharmed. For the past few days this has been all I have been able to think about, and somehow it came out as a story. **

**I hope that by writing this I will be able to get it out of my system a little bit. **

**I hope you enjoy it, despite all my crazy ramblings.**

**Lyrics and title are by Within Temptation. **

'_Cause your soul is on fire_

_**A shot in the dark**_

_What did they aim for when they missed your heart?_

It was a bright and sunny day. Almost too warm for early April.

Dean leaned back against the Impala, his eyes closed. He loved days like this. The sun warming up his face, driving around with the windows down, girls walking around with bare legs for the first time of the year. It was fantastic.

He inhaled the clear spring air and looked around. A young woman walked by in a light summer dress. It blew around in the wind, hugging her figure. Dean winked at her. She smiled back at him, her eyes sparkling in the bright sunlight, Yep, he definitely loved days like this.

The little mall behind him was crowded. People were hurrying inside, rushing through their Saturday shopping. Nobody wanted to sit inside in weather like this. Dean rolled up his shirtsleeves. He could imagine Sam struggling though the crowds inside, trying to find… whatever the hell it was he needed in there. Dean only hoped he'd hurry up so they could blow this town and find a place to relax in the sun with a beer. They had nowhere to be. Nothing to do but enjoy the peace while it lasted. Which probably wouldn't be long, but Dean wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Afterwards he wondered many times if it was all his fault. Whether he had been tempting fate just _thinking._ He knew it wasn't really possible, but it was all too much of a coincidence.

Because one second he was staring at a girl in a blue summer dress and thinking what she would look like without it, and the next he was running with his gun in his hand, fighting the panicked steam of people pushing their way out of the mall. Quite suddenly, the peace and quiet of a spring day had been ripped apart by a sound he knew only too well.

Gunfire.

Someone was shooting up the mall. And Sam was in there.

Then, a heavier bang resounded over the racket of automatic gunfire.

It was over before it had truly begun. The mall was silent as Dean raced up the stairs and skidded to a halt. A man in dark clothes lay on the ground, the muzzle of him gun just visible underneath his arm. He had a perfect round hole in his forehead. His eyes were staring up at the ceiling, wide and blank. And just a few feet away was Sam, on one knee on the floor. He had his smoking gun in hand, eyes focused on the dead man. His posture was stiff, his eyes glazed over. And his shirt was covered in blood.

* * *

><p>It barely took conscious thought. Break cover, shoot, drop. It was all instinct, he barely realized what he had done until it was over. But what he couldn't seem to figure out was why his hands were stained with blood.<p>

Sam blinked slowly. The world slid back into focus again. He was still in the mall, on one knee on the grubby floor. One moment, he had just been walking among the crowd, listening in to conversations. A bag of groceries in one hand and a newspaper in the other. Just one among many.

It was almost frightening how fast he had snapped into hunting mode.

The footsteps had drawn his attention first. Slow and heavy, a little unsteady. Out of sync with the rest of the crowd. Sam remembered stuffing his newspaper in the bag to have a hand free, just in case.

And then the peaceful spring day had been blown to pieces.

Almost before his mind had registered what the sound was, Sam ducked behind a pillar with his gun in hand, groceries forgotten on the ground. People were running everywhere, hiding in stores. Running for their lives. Running from the lone gunman who was shooting wildly. He wasn't even aiming for anything. He was just shooting for the hell of it. Bullets were slamming into the pillar. Sam checked his gun. There was only one way to put an end to this.

Break cover.

Shoot.

Drop.

Silence.

Sam blinked again. The man in front of him was on the floor. Dead.

The hunter inside him slowly backed down. Hid back into the shadows of his mind. His hands clenched and relaxed around the grip of his gun. Warm blood was staining his fingers. And for the life of him, he couldn't figure out how it got there.

The mall wasn't completely silent. Whispered voices. Sobs. Someone groaning in pain.

Someone was running towards him.

"Sammy?"

* * *

><p>Sam was staring at the body in front of him with empty eyes. His hands were rock steady as they held his gun. Dean ran towards him, thinking a little too late that Sam might just shoot him out of reflex. But he didn't. Sam blinked a few times and looked down at his hands. Studying the bloodstains on his fingers with mild curiosity.<p>

"Sammy?"

No answer.

"Sammy, are you hurt?"

Sam looked at him vaguely, apparently pondering the question. Dean swore softly. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans and grabbed his brother's shoulder.

"Sam, come on. What the hell happened?"

Sam made a vague gesture with his gun towards the dead man. "He just started shooting."

"Just like that?"

Sam nodded faintly. "Yeah. For no reason at all. I had no choice, Dean."

"I know you didn't." Dean gently took the gun from his hand. "Sam, did he hit you?"

A crowd was slowly starting to form around them, but Dean hardly noticed. Sirens were blaring in the distance. Sam looked down and studied his bloodstained shirt. Dean could feel him starting to tremble.

The sirens grew louder, tires screeching outside the entrance of the mall.

"It's okay, Sam," he said calmly. "Come here, let me take a look at you."

With gentle hands, he pulled Sam closer. He was shaking harder, fingers trembling like he was cold.

"Is he okay?" The voice in Dean's ear was urgent, worried. Dean didn't need to answer. The woman gasped as she saw the little bullet hole in Sam's shirt, just below his ribcage.

Dean looked up at her. "Get the paramedics over here, now."

Someone was telling people to back away, and Dean was grateful for it. They were all too close. All staring, whispering the same things over and over again.

"He did it."

"He killed him."

"He saved us."

Sam was leaning heavily against him.

"You still with me, Sammy? Ambulance is on the way, it's gonna be okay. You'll be fine."

Sam shifted a little.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You're rambling."

Dean laughed breathlessly. "That's because you scared the crap out of me. Again."

"Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for, Sam." Dean gently pulled his brother a little closer. "Nothing to be sorry for."

* * *

><p>Everything happened in a blur of sound and color.<p>

Sirens, flashing lights. There was pain. Urgent questions he didn't bother answering. Dean knew it all anyway.

At some point he must have drifted off, because all of a sudden he couldn't make sense of things anymore. Couldn't figure out where he was or how he got there. There were strangers, talking, questioning. Then they were gone again, replaced by others.

Noises, pain. Nothing made sense. So he just closed his eyes and let himself drift. Dean would figure it out somehow.

When he woke up again, Sam could tell time had passed. Things were quiet around him. Something was beeping softly in his ear. There was a quiet murmur of voices nearby. A whispered conversation.

"… he always carry a gun?"

"Yeah, we both do. We travel a lot. Go to a lot of places that aren't as quiet as this." That was Dean. Sam could hear the fatigue and worry in his voice.

"I hear ya. The world can be a scary place these days." A deep breath. "I've seen the security tapes. He just jumped into the line of fire to take the shot."

"Yeah. And I have a thing or two I want to say to him about that."

"Well, thank God he did. Who knows how many people would have died if your brother hadn't been there." A brief hesitation. "How is he doing?"

"He got lucky. The bullet didn't do all that much damage." Dean chuckled faintly. "Of course, knowing my brother he will develop every complication in the book before the end of the day."

"Let's hope not." Footsteps on the floor. "I have to get going. We still haven't figured out who the guy is and the mayor wants someone to blame. And don't even get me started on the press."

"Good luck with that, sheriff."

The door opened and clicked shut again. For a moment there was silence, except for the beeping beside Sam's ear. It was getting a little annoying.

"You in there, Sam?"

Dean was very close all of a sudden.

Sam hadn't even heard him walk across the room.

Maybe the beeping was too loud.

Or Dean was being too quiet.

Or the gunman killed off his hunter's instinct.

_The gunman._

And quite suddenly, it all came back. Heavy footsteps in the crowd. The click of an automatic weapon.

_God._

The beeping sped up a little.

"Sam? Come on, little brother. I know you can hear me."

Sam fought against whatever it was that was weighing down his eyelids. In his mind he could still see the people running. Falling to the ground. Bullets flying everywhere.

Break cover.

Shoot.

Drop.

Sam opened his eyes and blinked against the light streaming through the windows. He had seen plenty of hospital rooms over the years and this one was exactly the same. Except for the flowers beside his bed. Dean was sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair beside the bed, looking exhausted. Sam licked his dry lips.

"Dude, flowers?"

Dean chuckled softly. "They're not from me if that's what you're thinking. You're the town hero man. Before the end of the day this place will look like a floral shop." His grin disappeared. "How 're you feeling, Sammy?"

Sam blinked a few times. "Pleasantly numb."

"Be grateful while it lasts." Dean hesitated. "You remember what happened?"

Sam looked down at the white sheets and nodded.

"What were you thinking, Sam? He could have killed you!"

"Then what was I supposed to do?" Sam raised his head in defiance. "I couldn't let him shoot up the entire mall!" Dean raised his hand to interrupt, but Sam didn't give him a chance. "I didn't have a choice, Dean. And I know you'd have done exactly the same."

Sam blinked rapidly. The room was suddenly a little blurry around the edges. A dull ache rose up from a point somewhere below his ribcage. He closed his eyes and drew a shaky breath. Dean carefully put a hand on his arm.

"Easy, Sam. You've been shot. No yelling at me for a while."

Sam frowned in confusion. He didn't remember getting shot. There was the gunman. People falling. Bullets slamming into the pillar.

Break cover…

"What happened?" There were some many thing he wanted to ask, but this just about covered it.

"They're not sure yet," said Dean softly. "Nobody knows who the guy was. There was apparently a suicide note in his car. He was gonna shoot up the place and then blow his brains out."

"Why?"

Dean shook his head. "That is the million dollar question. They don't know. Could be some form of psychosis, but…" He made a vague gesture with his hands. "I've been back there. There's no sign he was possessed or anything like that."

"And demons don't need guns," muttered Sam.

"Exactly." Dean leaned forward in his chair. "He was just a guy."

Sam leaned back against his pillows. "So what he did was…"

"… completely pointless." Dean hesitated. "I… I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shot him. He could have killed dozens of people."

"For no reason at all," muttered Sam. "It just doesn't make sense."

"People are crazy," said Dean softly. "But you stopped him. And you're gonna be fine. That's all that matters."

Sam nodded vaguely, his eyes sliding shut. He had barely seen the gunman's face. But in his mind it was a blank mask. No emotions. No thoughts. No feelings. Just a man with a gun.

"Get some sleep while you can, Sam," said Dean softly. "We need to get you out of here before the press finds out where you are."

"Press?" muttered Sam vaguely.

"You are the news of the day, little brother. From what the sheriff told me they've been hounding him for details all day." The hand on Sam's arm shifted a little, but it stayed where it was. "Seriously dude. Get some rest. You look like crap."

Sam didn't doubt that. To be honest, he was starting to feel like crap too. As he let himself drift again, he could hear Dean breathing beside him. They were both still there. And despite all the crap they had seen over the years, they were both still sane. Sam couldn't help but wonder what it would take to turn a man into a mass murderer. What could drive someone to shoot at a crowd of women and children. To shed blood for no reason at all.

Dean's hand was warm on his forearm. They were both still there.

That was all that mattered.


End file.
